Heartless
by UnromanticPoetess
Summary: I don't usually write romance, let alone B/V. But this is pretty good. No character bashing; just angst all around. COMPLETED
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't own. Whatever.  
  
Author's Notes: If you read my bio, you know I don't like mindless romance fics. So, why am I writing one? I don't really know. I'm trying to work through my creativity as I'm writing my long fic. I should be writing better storylines soon, so just bear with me. Anyway, this fic is not very mushy. No bonding, and no bashing. Just the way I envision the famous get- together.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Heartless**

Bulma waited miserably be the phone.  _Training, he said.  Well, the least he could have done was call, or—something._

"This is ridiculous," she said aloud, confirming her situation.  If she had to be alone on a Saturday night, at least she could have fun.

"What's ridiculous, woman?"

Bulma jumped, still not quite used to her enigmatic houseguest.  Vegeta seemed to slide in and out at the most unexpected times.  Mostly he creeped her out.  She had never known a killer, at least on his scale.  And, if chance hadn't worked out as it did, she'd probably be a year or two dead by his hand.  They all would.  But for now, he was content to face the threat of the androids, and helping him train was helping everyone.

"Nothing," she lied.  "But I'm going out.  I'm not waiting anymore."  She glared at the telephone once more.

"You needn't worry."  He continued to stare at Bulma.  "The weakling always calls."

Vegeta?

_Reassuring_ her?

Bulma caught her breath and looked into his eyes.  As usual, she couldn't tell what he was thinking, but for once she was caught off guard.  She put her life in perspective, and realized the loneliness she felt couldn't possibly amount to the loneliness Vegeta must be going through.  For once, she actually saw him as having a heart.  Reluctantly, she stammered out an invitation, hoping to alleviate both their solitude.  "W-would you like to go out, too?  I think there's a Jackie Chan movie on."

Vegeta looked startled, as if he didn't know how to respond.  And when he didn't know how to respond, he did the only thing he knew to do.

"Why the hell would I want to do that?  What's wrong with you, woman?"

Bulma's own temper flared higher.  "Fine, then!  Stay alone for all I care!"  Turning from Vegeta, she grabbed her purse and walked out, slamming the door.  "What could I expect from a heartless killer anyway?"

                                                                *****

Yamcha stared at the vapid girl, hardly believing he had agreed to this.  But at least the girl—Renee or Stephanie or something—didn't yell at him.  Bulma had been doing that all the time of late.  She was almost never in a good mood.  Ever since Namek, she was different.  Not as carefree.  And she seemed to hold him in contempt.  He loved her, but he was tired of it.  So he took refuge in the arms of idiots.

"Are you sure you want to see a movie?" he asked.  He didn't really like movies, especially comedic martial arts movies.  Fighting was something to be taken seriously.

"Of course!  I've been waiting to see this all week!"

'Is it worth it?" he asked himself.  'If Bulma finds out…'  He couldn't live without Bulma.  She was his anchor that kept him through life and death, his reason for living when he got disgusted with the world.

Only sometimes an anchor becomes so heavy.


	2. Insult to Injury

Disclaimer: *yawns* Huh? Wha-? Oh, yeah. Don't own.  
  
Author's Notes: Don't you hate doing that? Anyway, I'm updating. This'll be a bit longer. Thanks to my first reviewer chaoticruby (I pretty much treat all the characters with respect. I believe there's enough bashing of the poor loser. You may think it's bashing, though. It's all in the reader's perception). Anyway, on with the show.  
  
  
  
  


**Heartless**

**Chapter 2: Injury to Insult**

Bulma ran into her house, biting back the sobs that were fighting to accompany her streaming tears.  She held her right hand, trying to stop the throbbing pain.  She thought she actually broke a knuckle.  How she had managed to drive home still amazed her.

Her parents were asleep, so she went to the medic room to treat herself.  She cursed as she stumbled through the dark house, stubbing the same toe more than once.  Injury to insult.

She threw open the door and was surprised to see the lights on.  There was Vegeta, stemming the blood flow of a nasty cut on his leg.  So intent was he that he was actually startled by Bulma's violent entrance.

"What's the matter with you, woman?  All you can talk about is human courtesies, but you never use them."

Bulma, for once, ignored him.  She wasn't in the mood for an argument.  She had had about as much as she could take.  Right then all men were scum.  She swept past him without a word, leaving him almost disappointed.  Almost.

Treating her right hand was awkward, and in her blind fury she couldn't remember how to operate the bone knitter.  Finally, truly overcome, not caring about anything, save her own grief, she slid to the floor and cried.

_How could he do that to me?  There he was, laughing away with a girl who couldn't be any older than nineteen.  Lying to me.  Cheating on me—and he didn't even know the girl's name.  And then, having the audacity to apologize, and then to break my fist with his face._

Unwittingly, she clenched her fist in rage, and then, mercifully, passed out from the pain.

                                                                      *****

Yamcha slouched into his apartment.  He'd really blown it.  He couldn't believe Bulma's rage, or the other girl's stupidity.  The other girl actually believed he was cheating on her with Bulma, and it was their first date.

Their only date.  Yamcha had left her enough money for the movie, popcorn, and a drink—for she still wanted to continue the date—and went home.

Home was actually a nice little bachelor's place in a good part of town.  No junk for a baseball player.  He'd lost his house sometime during his death, which was now believed to be a faked death as an excuse for a vacation, or a career boost.

Career boost or not, it was murder to his personal life.  Things had soured between him and Bulma, and he didn't quite know how to make things right.

Whenever he was around her, he always tried to be charming.  Maybe she was now seeing his attitude for what it really was—a mask.  Not that he didn't love her.  He did.  But he couldn't allow himself to be vulnerable.  Any desert bandit could tell you that.

But he wasn't a desert bandit any longer.  And he had hidden far too long behind his charm.  Bulma was the only one for him, he knew beyond even a hint of a shadow of a doubt.  And he had to completely open up to her, before he lost her.

Having made up his mind, disregarding all thoughts of sleep, Yamcha sat down to write Bulma a long letter.

                                                                *****

Bulma awakened in a dark room, which she quickly realized was her bedroom.  It took a while to get her bearings.  She was in her bed, still in her regular clothes.  Her hand was mended.  Her parents were asleep.  No one else was in the house, except…

"Vegeta?"

"What is it, woman?"

Bulma barely bit back a scream.  How long had she been unconscious?  How long had he been standing there?  Excellent questions, but none of them reached her mouth.

She could now see his eyes in the dark, practically glowing with intense energy.  It was as if nothing short of exploding could ever truly satisfy him.  For the short time she had known him, he had seemed absolutely bent on one goal or another.  Now—he seemed confused.  And alone.

Lonely.  She was so lonely.  For so long, Yamcha had not been—there.  He and everyone else was so busy training, something she could not help with, or share in.  No one had been by to see her in months.  And Yamcha sometimes went days without talking to her.  And her parents weren't very inspiring company, and had started traveling more recently.  In fact, she went days without seeing anyone…

Except Vegeta.

The two stood staring at each other, current running between them.  It was wordless, yet completely understood.  It made sense.  It fit.  They were—complete.

And together.

For the rest of the night.

                                                                     *****

Vegeta slept and, for the first time in years, didn't have nightmares.  He knew he'd found his mate.  They'd—connected.  Of course, this wasn't love.  Vegeta felt he couldn't love anymore.  This was—necessity.  They had recognized in each other matching qualities, as well as needs.  He knew what he'd committed himself to.  Saiyans mated for life, however long or short that may be.  But he was determined not to die, so he knew he was in this for the long haul.

Vegeta awakened to find the woman gone.  He glanced at the alarm clock, took a minute to understand the alien numbers, and realized it was 9:00.  Of course she was up.  As should he.  He jumped out of bed, showered, and dressed in the gi he'd worn the night before.  Good lord, was there a spring in his step?  He'd have to check that.

He walked down the hallway to demand breakfast, and stopped short.

"Oh, Yamcha, these roses are beautiful!  And this letter…I love you!"

"I love you, Bulma.  And I'm sorry.  You're the only one for me—forever."

White-hot rage filled Vegeta as he heard these disgusting words.  He'd forgotten how casual human liaisons were.  He'd thought last night had meant more than it actually had.  But he wasn't going to be made the fool.  He'd leave.  No distractions in space.  He'd return for the androids, but he couldn't stay here.  Not now.  

Vegeta crossed the area in front of the living room, headed for the lab to find the old man.

"Hey, Vegeta," Yamcha said brightly, too incredibly happy to think badly of anyone.  Bulma, on the other hand, stiffened, her smile frozen in place.  She didn't want to admit having slept with him.  Not when she had just gotten her real boyfriend back.

Vegeta merely smirked and chuckled bitterly.  "And they call me heartless."

As the prince swept out of the room, Yamcha's gaze of confusion and disgust followed him.  "What's with him?"

Bulma laughed nervously.  "Oh, you know Vegeta."  And she quickly changed the subject.


	3. And He Left

Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? All right. Ok. I get the idea. Don't own. Like I would anyway.  
  
Author's notes: Depressing, ain't it?  
  
  


**Heartless**

**Chapter 3: And He Left**

"Alright, doctor.  You called, so I guess the lab results are in.  What is it?"

The old doctor smiled and adjusted his glasses.  "The symptoms are neither stress-related nor viral, as you believed, Ms. Briefs."

"Spit it out, doctor," Bulma replied impatiently.

"You're pregnant."

                                                               *****

"What?"

"I'm pregnant."

Yamcha sat down in disbelief.  He was the only one who seemed surprised.  Her parents were always strange, and took the news as if Bulma had announced that she had changed the paper towel roll.  "That's nice, dear."

Suddenly Yamcha broke into a wide grin.  "You're really pregnant?  We're having a baby?!  Bulma, that's wonderful!"  Yamcha jumped up and hugged her, picking her up and dancing around.  Bulma was awash with relief at his reaction.  If it wasn't for that nagging doubt in the back of her mind…

                                                              *****

The living room was filled with mounds of baby clothes, baby toys, a huge crib, and other essentials for the blessed event, now a month away.  Bulma and Chichi were oohing and aahing over each article, while Goku and Yamcha were struggling with the construction of the crib.  Neither of them had much technical skill, and they had to be extra careful with the parts, extra flimsy in their super-humanly strong hands.

Yamcha smiled, staring at Bulma.  "Just look at her."

"Yeah!  I've never seen her this happy," Goku handed Yamcha the directions.  Yamcha tossed them aside with a look of 'who needs them.'

"I'm telling you, Goku.  This is it.  I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her.  When I heard about my child…"

So lost was Yamcha in the happiness of being an expectant father, he missed the look of sadness and pity on Goku's face.

                                                                   *****

The waiting room was packed.  Among the crowd of normal expecting relatives, the oddest assortment of people waited.  Goku was trying to fight off Mrs. Briefs' over-friendliness while sweating under Chichi's jealous glare.  Dr. Briefs was disconcerted, less from his daughter's situation and more from the fact he couldn't take his cat into the hospital.  Master Roshi was systematically checking out, and being smacked upside the head by, every woman in the room; he only gave up his quest when he got a healthy dose of pepper spray.  Krillen was being just as annoying by asking every person in a lab coat about Bulma.  Pu'ar was simply floating in a corner nervously.  And Gohan—he was showing a gap in his excellent education.

"But, Mom.  How did the baby get inside Bulma?  And isn't that only supposed to happen when two people are married?"

Chichi only paled.  She would be the one to give the talk, she knew that.  But not today.

                                                                    *****

Yamcha was grateful for his martial arts training now.  Otherwise his hand would be crippled from Bulma's grip.

Sweat poured from her body, but for once she wasn't complaining.  She merely screamed in pain with each push.

"We have a head," the doctor crowed.

Bulma gave two final pushes, and the baby was out.  Panting for breath, she whispered Yamcha's name under her breath as they heard the first wails of this new life.  For now, Yamcha could only stare amazed into Bulma's eyes.  This was the happiest moment of his life.  He could never love another.

The nurse was busy cleaning up the baby.  "It's a boy."  Yamcha's heart leapt in glee.  "But it seems to have an extra appendage."

The comment took a few seconds to register in Yamcha's mind.  Slowly, he looked away from Bulma, mostly to explain the 'extra appendage' to the doctor, and saw the child for the first time.

A tail.

Yamcha had found his perfect world, and it wasn't his.  He looked into Bulma's eyes, and that confirmed it.

A Saiyan child.

"And what name will we put on the birth certificate?  Perhaps named after the child's father?" the doctor asked obliviously.

Yamcha, glaring at the woman he wanted more than life itself, answered with all the hatred and hurt he felt crashing down on him.  "Yeah, I think Vegeta's a fine name for the kid."  He then turned to the doctor and stated the phrase that had been screaming in his head over and over.  "I'm not the father."

And he left.


	4. So It Had to Be

Disclaimer: And yet again . . . I don't own it. Do ya get it? Do I have to spell it out for you? Oh . . . wait . . . I just did.  
  
Author's notes: I know it's depressing. The situation was depressing.  
  
  
  
  


**Heartless**

**Chapter 4: So It Had To Be**

The group crowded around the glass wall in anticipation of seeing the baby.  All other distractions were forgotten.

"When are they going to bring it out?" Chichi demanded impatiently.

No sooner were her words out when Yamcha stormed by.  He stared at the others, looking for a hint of who might have known.  All faces registered confusion, except…

Yamcha glared at his friend Goku, whose look of pity had given him away.  "Why didn't you tell me, Goku?" he demanded with a voice full of hurt.  He didn't wait for an answer.

The others looked even more bewildered.  "What's he talking about, Goku?" Krillen said.

Goku didn't answer.  He simply stared at the baby that had been slipped in unnoticed through Yamcha's outburst.  One look at the child answered a host of questions.

Krillen looked once more at his friend, dread mixed in his features.  "Goku, you didn't…"

Goku was not so naïve to miss the meaning of all the looks he was getting.  "You know it wasn't me."

"But it had to be a Saiyan!" Chichi burst out.

"And I don't even know what anyone's talking about," Gohan added.

So it had to be…

                                                                         *****

"Ms. Briefs, I still need one more name for the birth certificate."

Bulma simply stared at the ceiling, tears flowing down her face.  She'd known.  Somehow she'd known all along.  And now she had no one.  How could anyone respect her after this?  When they all knew she… and that monster…

"Bulma."

Bulma looked up, and there were her friends.  Her closest friends.  And the instant she looked at Goku, and Chichi, and Krillen, she knew they would support her.

"Ms. Briefs—"

"Yes, doctor," she interrupted.  The child would have a father, if only in name.  "The father's name is Vegeta.  I—don't think he has a last name."  Then she looked over at her friends.  "I named him Trunks.  Isn't he wonderful?"  Her voice broke.  The doctor was about to respectfully step outside.  "Wait."  The doctor halted.  "I want the tail removed."  The doctor nodded and stepped outside.  Bulma laughed slightly.  "Well, I can't have Trunks change into a giant monkey every time he sees the full moon, now can I?"

At the feel of Goku's comforting hand on her shoulder, Bulma broke down.  And she cried her heart out.

                                                                          *****

Somewhere in a nearby solar system, Vegeta became aware of a great joy and a great sorrow.  Confused and frustrated by the distraction, he pushed it from his mind and continued to train.

                                                                   *****

Krillen uneasily edged toward his grieving friend.  This was perhaps harder than seeing Bulma.  Bulma at least had the child.  Yamcha had nothing.

"What do you want, Krillen?"

Krillen gulped.  He wasn't good with confrontations.  They often led him to do or say something stupid, and make things worse.  But this had to be done.

"Yamcha, I know this is hard…"

"You don't know, Krillen.  I was ready.  I had the ring bought and everything.  I planned it for when she got out of the hospital.  And now to find out—I should have known.  But I loved her."

"You can still love her.  She needs you now more than ever.  And she does love you."

"OK, Krillen, why don't you get a date and then you can give me advice."  Yamcha's tone was bitter and sarcastic, and it stung Krillen to the core.

"Yamcha, don't take your anger out on me.  I'm just a friend trying to help."

Yamcha turned his back.  "Do me a favor and don't help."

With one last glare, Krillen left his bitter friend alone.


	5. Gone

Disclaimer: For the last time: I don't own it.  
  
Author's notes: Last chapter. Great rejoicing among the peasantry.  
  
  
  
  


**Heartless**

**Chapter 5: Gone**

The ensuing battle had not been kind to Vegeta.  No matter how he tried to look at things, he could not see any triumph.  Cell was dead; the boy had won the battle.  But at what cost.

So much death, and it actually mattered to him.  Not the nameless faces that Cell absorbed.  Of course not them.  But Trunks…

Trunks was alive.  The dragonballs had taken care of that.  He had just seen the youth he had spent so much time with, had trained with, depart into his own timeline forever.  They had not done much talking that year in the Room of Spirit and Time, but they had unintentionally formed a sort of bond.  They had sparred and grown stronger.  And—did Vegeta actually miss him?

His son's death had affected Vegeta almost more than Kakarrot's death.  His rival's death he had taken calmly.  His son's death—he'd never realized before how much his son meant to him.  And now he was gone.

"Waahhhh!!!"

The ungodly noise startled Vegeta from his reverie.  The child—that child was Trunks.  The same purple hair, the same eyes, the same—person.  If only he could get to know this child, just as he had come to know the powerful young man.  If only he didn't have to… what?

For once Vegeta realized he had nothing to do.  No battles.  No threats.  No evil tyrants.  No androids.  No Kakarrot.

Nothing.  So—why not?

"Shh, Trunks.  Be a good boy.  Everything's all right now."

That's why not.

The woman—the one he actually considered staying with, feeling maybe she had enough strength of will and spirit to compensate for her inadequacies in strength.  Yet she had run straight back to that unfaithful idiot the first second she could.  She just wouldn't be known as the mate of a murderer.  Doubtless the two idiots were already making plans for a family life, using his son to complete the picture.

Yet why was she alone?

                                                                  *****

Bulma rocked Trunks, needing the comfort as much as she felt Trunks did.  She couldn't help but feel abandoned.  Honestly, she hadn't thought she would be alive to worry about the rest of her life.  But whoever controlled the universe decided to let her live, prolonging her pain.

Yamcha was gone.  He'd survived the tournament, but hadn't looked her in the eyes once.  What little connection they'd had was destroyed by mutual betrayal.

Goku was gone.  The man had sacrificed his life, but it had been his life that had kept her going, ever since she had first laid eyes on the funny little boy.  Somehow, as long as he was happy and carefree, she knew she was complete, and that life was now the way it should be.  Yet, without his smile…

Trunks was gone.  Having the baby was wonderful, but seeing him as a man, knowing that her other time-line self could raise the child alone under worse circumstance—he had been such a nice young man.  She could be a single mother—

Chichi was gone.  She had lost a husband, and now had to raise Gohan and the baby—she had too much to deal with.  Bulma couldn't rely on her.

Vegeta was gone—

No, he wasn't.

The prince was leaning against a tree and was staring at her.  Why was he still here?  Everyone else was gone.

"Well?  Aren't you going to leave too?"

Vegeta scowled further.  "Where's that weakling idiot you're so disgustingly fond of?"

Bulma glared into his eyes, but had to turn away.  She wouldn't cry in front of him.  "He's gone, all right.  Now go ahead and leave."

"Fool woman.  You actually think I'll just leave you and my son?  What do you take me for, heartless?"

"You mean you—"

"Why do you think I'm here?"


	6. Starting Over

Disclaimer: Holds Akira Toriyama's head on a pike. "It's mine now. All mine." *alarm rings* Wakes up. "NNNNNOOOOO!!!!!!!!"  
  
Author's Notes: The more times I read this story, I less I liked the ending. I did the same thing so many others have done. I forgot Yamcha. Poor Yamcha. Anyway, this wraps up his character. Enjoy. And thanks for reviewing.  
  
  


**Heartless **

**Epilogue**

Yamcha laid on the couch, ever faithful Puar floating nearby as they listen to an all-too-familiar rant.

"Yamcha, you can't keep doing this to me—er—yourself.  The public needs you."

Yamcha smiled sardonically at his jittery manager.  "The public.  Alright.  And what should I stop doing, again?"

"Trying to get yourself killed!"  The man adjusted the hair that had become disheveled from his recent outbursts.  His face was red, and he was sweating, obviously out of shape from the years of ease after his own athletic career.  Yamcha kept his sardonic air about him.  Will this be him after he retired from both martial arts and baseball?  Kami, he hoped not.

"You know," the manager continued, "I thought I had troubles with other players.  Alcohol, drugs, steroids, injuries, codependence—those are nothing.  Those people just cause scandals or waste away.  It's not like any of those dressed in an orange jumpsuit and tried to fight a killer android.  And let's not forget the aliens when you actually did die.  Fighting for the world is for people like Hercule.  And I don't think another death is going to work."

Yamcha just stared at the man until he looked away in disgust.  "Listen, Yamcha.  You're the best player out there.  You're on the fast track to the Hall of Fame.  The Titans will pay anything to keep you, and after another year of not getting killed and actually playing we'll have our pick of teams.  Practice starts Monday."  He tossed Yamcha a baseball cap, who caught it with ease, and left.

Puar floated closer to Yamcha.  "He may have a point there," she squeaked out.  "You don't have to fight anymore."

Yamcha continued to stare at the cap, showing no reaction to her words.

"I mean, there are so many others who can fight if Earth is threatened.  Gohan, and Piccolo, and Vegeta…"

A look of anger flashed in his eyes.

"Oh, no!  I'm sorry, Yamcha.  I didn't mean—"

"It's alright, Puar.  I'm—OK."

Puar continued to stare at him in concern.  Yamcha didn't blame her.  He hadn't been himself for a long time.  The years had not been kind to him.  Not only death and losing Bulma, but while everyone else got stronger—while everyone else had started to settle down with families—he felt overlooked and left behind.  And he was supposed to be the good guy.  The nice guy.  But Bulma had left Mr. Nice Guy for Mr. Abuse.

It had been a few months since Goku's death, and life was getting back to normal.  Even the crazy evil people were becoming not so evil.  The blonde android was spending a lot of time with Krillen of all people—he really was happy for Krillen, though.  He'd said so, and apologized for what he'd said to him.  And even Vegeta was actually sticking around.  OK, so maybe he wasn't Mr. Abuse.  But, darn it, it was supposed to be him!  Why was Vegeta the good guy now, and Yamcha the bad guy?  Vegeta had everything, and he had—nothing.  

"What am I going to do now, Puar?  I lost everything."

Puar sat next to him, taking his large calloused hand into her two furry blue paws.  Startled, Yamcha looked up at her.  A wisdom seemed to shine through, belying her cute kitten appearance.  This was the friend Yamcha had come to respect from their desert days.  "You haven't lost anything, Yamcha.  The thing with Bulma didn't work out, but that's for the best.  You have lots of good friends, a good career, you're strong, and you're still young.  Don't pity yourself.  You'll live one day at a time, just like everybody else.  There are no more bad guys—no more fights.  You can start over now, just like you have before.

_I can start over._

It was true.  He'd lost everything—but himself.  He still had himself.  He always had himself.

Puar laughed.  "There's a smile.  It's been a while."

And sure enough, Yamcha felt the corners of his mouth curved up.  He did have a bright future.  The past was the past and he'd severed all ties to it.  He WOULD start over.  For the first time in years he was excited.  Suddenly, the world didn't seem so heartless to him.  Couldn't wait to see what was in store for him next.

He started to push himself off the couch, and saw the cap held forgotten in his hand.  Smiling, he put the cap on his head and walked over to the mirror.  I didn't match his orange gi, though.  The "jumpsuit.'  Through the mirror, he saw the clothes Puar had bought for him laying out on a chair.  Walking to his room, he quickly changed, and shoved his gi into the back of the closet.  He paused at this action, but he was resolute.  _Sever all ties._

"I will fight no more," he told his reflection in the full-length mirror.  He looked transformed.  Not like a Saiyan transformation.  But it did make him feel more powerful—happier.  Two paws encircled his neck as Puar hugged him from behind.  "I'm glad."

And maybe… this would last.


End file.
